him forget his duty. She bade him sing to beguile a tedious
hour, and he sang of love and looked at her with such a
world of worship in his eyes that she grew angry and
upbraided him. Let it pass; for, by the mystic mark of Apis,
she frightened the boy out of his foolish fever.

She laughs gleefully, and the gruff old soldier suffers her to
take his sword, growling meanwhile that he likes not these
alarms--that she has marshaled Egypt's powers to battle
with a mirage. The game is won; but guilt will never rest
content, and oft reveals itself by much concealment. It is
passing strange, she tells him tearfully, that every male who
looks upon her, whether gray-headed grand-sire or
beardless boy, seems smitten with love's madness. She
knows not why 'tis so. If there is in her conduct aught to
challenge controversy she prays that he will tell her. The
old captain's brow again grows black. He leads her where
the fading light falls upon her face, and, looking down into
her eyes as tho' searching out the secrets of her soul, bids
her mark well his words. The wife who bears herself
becomingly never hears the tempter's tone or knows aught
of any love but that of her rightful lord. Pure womanhood is
a wondrous shield, more potent far than swords. If she has
been approached by lawless libertine, he bids her, for the
honor of his house, to set a seal upon her lips, instead of
bruiting her shame abroad as women are wont to do whose
vanity outruns their judgment.

. . .